


Jack's Christmas Miracle

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 01:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13044153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: What if Mac got shot throwing that dart in ep 211? Jack’s POV. (Unbeta'd)





	Jack's Christmas Miracle

Jack hates it when Mac’s somewhere he can’t get to him, be it in the hands of terrorists or some psycho - or the  _LA police_. Maybe that’s even worse because he can’t just bust him out, guns blazing. And that helplessness is making him all…  _antsy_.

And now, not only is the kid still accused of murder and domestic terrorism - seriously,  _Angus MacGyver,_ of all people! - there’s a cartel killer after him on top of that! If those-those…  _doofuses_ who arrested Mac in the first place won’t keep him safe from that guy, it’ll be adding insult to injury and Jack will have to kick some ass!

Fortunately, when they arrive at the police station, engines roaring and tires screeching, Jack and Cage and their small army in black, cops get out of their way. Either Matty called someone or their little merry band looks official enough for the police to accept that they actually have the right to be there.

Jack really doesn’t give two damns because in that moment, he hears the loud  _pop_ of a controlled explosion from somewhere inside the building and if he isn’t completely mistaken, that’s one of Mac’s. Which could only mean that the killer got to him, after all!

He must look truly fierce and resolute because when he barges into the station at the head of his people, the cops - who all appear a little wild around the eyes - simply point down the hallway and down the stairs, in the direction of the basement. Jack wonders fleetingly what’s Mac doing in the  _basement_ , but then he pushes the thought aside and follows the pointing fingers.

Bodies, that’s what he finds first; FBI agents by the look of them. And the smell of cordite hanging heavily in the air. Then an open door and a half-finished room, the black detective holding their killer at a gunpoint, the other cop, the older one, bleeding from a gunshot and…

 _Mac_. On the floor, with his hands pressed tight against a dark red stain on his stomach, a stain that’s quickly spreading, blood soaking into his shirt, pooling around him, turning gooey mixed with plaster dust…

“Mac!” Jack yells, crossing the room quickly. He doesn’t pay attention to anyone but the kid as he drops to his knees by Mac’s side. He pushes his semi-automatic back, letting it dangle from its strap, as he reaches out for his partner.

Mac lets his head loll to the side and blinks at Jack dazedly. “Hey,” he whispers, blood staining his lips already and trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Cage, call it in,” Jack shouts over his shoulder without taking his eyes off Mac. “We need an ambulance here, now!” Then he gently pulls Mac’s hands away from the wound to check it. And winces. Yeah, better keep pressure on it.

A field dressing is passed over his shoulder and he glances back. Cage, on the phone, is handing him a bundle of gauze that she pulled out one of her many pockets. He nods at her gratefully. He covers Mac’s wound with it and presses down hard, cringing inwardly when he hears Mac moan in pain.

“Jesus, kid,” Jack whispers. “Didn’t I tell you to sit tight? That we would leave here together? Couldn’t you have waited five minutes with your stupid heroics?”

Mac gives him a wan smile. “S-sorry.”

Jack glares at him. He glares because he’s scared. He’s downright terrified because Mac’s always been the palest kid Jack has ever known but now he’s turning downright gray and that’s not good, that’s not good at all.

“Yeah, well. This time, you follow my orders and stay awake, you hear me?” Jack says when he sees Mac’s eyes flutter and close, flutter and close. “Hey, Mac.  _Stop that_!” he snaps and reaches out with one hand to pat Mac on the face, leaving bloody fingerprints all over his cheek. “ _Mac_!”

“T-tired,” Mac slurs.

“I know, buddy, I know, but you have to stay awake, you hear me?” Jack demands sharply. “ _Listen_ to me, Mac!”

Mac doesn’t listen.

* * *

They let Jack ride with Mac in the ambulance; there’s very little anyone can do to stop a determined Jack Dalton, especially when he’s wearing tactical gear and holding a weapon. He goes where Mac goes!

In the hospital, though, he was to wait outside, in the waiting room, just like everybody else. But patience’s never been his forte, so he paces up and down the hallway, looking grim and scaring everyone with his guns and bloodstained hands. He really doesn’t care.

It’s not until the others arrive and Matty orders him to calm down or  _else_ that Jack finally unstraps his semi-automatic - the pistols he keeps, thank you very much, who knows what psychos could be lurking out there! - agreeing to take a quick shower in the doctors’ restroom - he’s  _not_ leaving here! He also accepts the change of clothes that Riley picked up for him at home.

“This should’ve never happened, Matty,” Jack states after he comes back. He’s standing at one of the windows in the waiting room, staring out across the dimply lit hospital parking lot.

Matty who joined him there, nods. “I agree,” she replies quietly.

He glances down at her, then back out again. “No, I  _mean_ it. We do our job and not because of the big bucks or the fame. We do it because it’s right and we go where you send us. We risk our lives every day and we deserve more than to be disavowed the moment the situation gets hairy,  _especially_ on US soil.”

He shakes his head. “We didn’t do anything wrong.  _Mac_ didn’t do anything wrong and yet, they hung him out to dry. I didn’t expect anything less from the CIA - they’re all bastards who would sell their own grandma to cover their asses, we both know that - but not from us. Not from the Phoenix Foundation. Not from the Oversight! This wasn’t  _right_!”

“I  _agree_ with you, Jack,” Matty reiterates and this time, something in her voice makes him  _really_ look at her. “I agree that’s why I scheduled a meeting with the Oversight first thing tomorrow. If we’re to work on our home turf, then we need a better protection, especially in cases when bad intel from other agencies leads to a screw-up. If anyone is to be held accountable, it won’t be  _my people_!”

Jack stares at her a moment longer, then he just nods because his throat’s too tight for him to speak. He’s always known that he could count on Matty Webber, but it’s one thing to  _know_ it and it’s another thing completely to  _hear_  it said out loud.

Then the door at the end of the hallway opens and a doctor walks out, asking for the family of one Angus MacGyver…

* * *

It’s Christmas Day and they should all be home, well, at Mac’s house, unpacking gifts and bickering and making fun of each other. Instead, Jack’s in the hospital, sitting at Mac’s bedside, watching him sleep.

He sent the rest of their team home - they didn’t want to go but Jack insisted, promising to call the moment anything changes; they were all exhausted after the week they just had. But they promised to come back in a few hours. They wouldn’t be dissuaded from that and Jack didn’t blame them.

But now, he’s alone here, in Mac’s private hospital room - working for the Phoenix Foundation does come with  _some_ merits - and he’s just soaking up the fact that Mac’s alive. Because from what the doctor said, it was touch and go there for a while. Gut wounds are always tricky. But so far, Mac’s holding his own. Jack’s very own Christmas miracle.

There’s a movement in the open doorway of the room and when Jack turns his head, he sees that cop, the older guy, Detective Greer, standing there with one arm in a sling. Oh right, he was shot, too.

Slowly, with one last glance at Mac to make sure he’s still asleep, Jack gets up and joins the cop in the hallway. 

“Detective,” Jack greets him neutrally. Deep down he understands that this man was just doing his job, that he is  _not_ the bad guy here, but if he’s here to arrest Mac again, to make trouble, Jack will punch him, shot or not.

Greer nods at Mac. “How is he?” he asks and he seems genuinely concerned.

“The doctors think he’ll pull through, given a little luck,” Jack replies, still wary.

The detective nods. “That’s good. I’m glad.” Then he pauses, and clearing his throat, he continues. “I came here to thank him for what he did down there, in the basement. He saved our lives.”

Jack keeps quiet, his face unreadable.

Taking a deep breath, Greer continues, “And also to tell him we’re dropping all charges against him. Considering all the evidence, we would’ve done it anyway but we received a very… hm,  _strongly worded_ email from upstairs, ordering us to leave you guys alone.”

Ah, so Matty did rip the Oversight a new one.  _Nice_. He’ll have to invite her for a drink.

Greer stares at Mac for a long while, frowning a little. Then he opens his mouth only to close it again, only to open it once more and turn to Jack with a question. “Who  _are_ you, guys, actually? Who is  _he_?” He nods at Mac, still lying asleep in his bed, surrounded by blinking machines keeping track of his vitals.

Jack looks at Mac and smiles a little. “Someone very special,” is his only answer. Then he claps the cop on his uninjured shoulder and says, “Goodbye, detective. And Merry Christmas.”

And with that, Jack returns to his vigil at his partner’s bedside. After a moment, Detective Greer departs, leaving him and Mac alone again with just the hush of the hospital around them.


End file.
